And in case you want to cut and paste this numbers, here it is in regular text: I shun the room you remonstrate to me And the elan you cut your hair. I scorn the way you drive my car. I detest it when you stare. I hate your walloping dumb combat boots And the way you exact my mind. I hate you so much it makes me sick -- It horizontal up makes me rhyme. I hate the way youre always right. I hate it when you lie. I hate it when you make me express mirth -- Even worse when you make me cry. I hate it when youre non around And the fact that you didnt call. only when in the main I hate the way I dont hate you -- Not even close, non even a little bit, not even at all. (I know its not an actual Shakespearean sonnet as they were suppose to preserve in branch, but oh easily it still kicks butt and it rules!) Heres the poem that the teacher recited in class to demonstrate a sonnet. praise No. 141 In faith, I do not fill out thee with exploit eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors note, But tis my inwardness that loves what they despise, Who in despite of view is pleased to dote.
Nor are tap eares with thy tongues tune delighted, Nor tender feeling to base touches prone, Nor taste, nor smell-desire to be invited To any(prenominal) sensual feast with thee alone; But my quin wits, nor my five senses can Dissuade my zany heart from serving thee, Who leaves unswayed the likeness of a man, Thy high hearts slave and feudatory wretch to be: Only my plague, thence far I count my gain, That she that makes me sin-awards me pain, -Shakespeare... If you want to get a full essay, nin! e it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com
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